


You Can Get There

by Vae



Category: Queer as Folk (US), Supernatural
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-07
Updated: 2008-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: He was just curious<br/>Kink: Experimenting gay sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Get There

"I still don't get why it's got to be me!" Sam pulled the t-shirt over his head, looking in the mirror with an expression of vague horror. "Dean, I'm not going out like this, this is way too small."

"Dude, it's meant to fit like that." Tugging it down so that it fit tighter, Dean nodded, snickered, and held out a pot of hair gel. "Get pretty. And it's gotta be you 'cause I'd get mobbed in there, you're kidding me, right?"

Sam still didn't see why that meant that _he_ had to be the one to go into Babylon, but shrugged, scowling at his reflection as he tugged his hair back into array. "Why am I going in at all, again?"

"How many miles to Babylon?" Dean quoted sourly. "There's some weird shit going on in there."

There was no arguing with that one. Though there was arguing when Dean held out a black eyeliner pencil. "Man, you're kidding me. Why do you even _have_ that?"

Dean shrugged and gave him an angelic smile.

"Fine." Sam scowled again, took the pencil, and looked at it. "How do chicks do this, anyway?"

~~~

Babylon, Friday night. Pulsing lights, pulsing beats, pulsing egos and pulsing... okay, no, Sam didn't really want to think about what else might be pulsing. 

Bodies twisting and grinding everywhere he looked, until he was really trying not to look anywhere. Closing his eyes wasn't a good idea, though, because then he bumped into people, and that was how he ended up pulled onto the crowded dance floor, moving from one sweaty, shirtless, gyrating man to the next, slowly losing his embarrassment. Maybe eyes closed was good after all, giving himself over to the music, moving with the beat, until a hand deliberately closed on his shoulder, and another on his hip.

Sam opened his eyes, and stared.

The face he saw was on a level with his own, which meant that the man grinding against him was at least as tall as he was. Combined with the face of a fallen angel (and Sam knew, he'd seen a few in his life), eyes so dark he had to double-check for whites, and lips twisted in a knowing smirk - oh, yeah. There was pulsing.

"First time," the lips said, moving close enough that Sam could hear him over the heavy dance music, which meant - oh, God - the rest of that lean body moved closer, too, still moving rhythmically against his. 

It hadn't been a question.

"Uh... what?" Sam stammered, kicking himself as soon as the words had escaped. 

"It's your first time," the voice of temptation repeated, sounding amused. It still wasn't a question. "Here. You're new in town. I'd remember that..." a hand clamped down on Sam's ass, closing the remaining micrometer of space between them, "...face."

Oh, _God_. Sam swallowed hard, clenched his fists, and told his dick to stop being interested. He was working a _job_. His dick, apparently, wasn't working the job with the rest of his body.

"In fact," the stranger continued, stopping still, his other hand joining the first on Sam's ass and deliberately squeezing in a way that made Sam's breath hitch and his heart skip double-time to the beat of the music, "I'd say it's your first time in any gay club. How old are you?"

Speech, right, speech. He could do speech. Without stammering, too. "Uh... twenty-two. I'm Sam."

The man's smirk spread to a wicked grin, and his hands stayed exactly where they were. "Are you sure about that, Sam?"

"Yeah. Sure. Quite sure." No longer sure what the hell he was doing, but he was sure of his age, and his name. Though, shit, he shouldn't have given the real one. It wasn't the one on the ID stuffed in his back pocket.

"Well, then, _Sam_." One hand slipped lower, hooking around Sam's thigh and tugging it until his legs were further apart and then, fuck, a leg pushed between his and instinct rocked his hips forwards, pressing for more contact, forcing a gasp and vague gratitude that Dean wasn't in the club after all, he'd never let Sam forget this. "I'm Brian. I'm telling you my name so you know what to scream when I fuck you."

He didn't want to forget this. He'd never really, well, there'd been Jess, and he'd never wanted more than Jess, anyone except Jess, but maybe before, maybe since... well. He'd wondered. Didn't everyone? He'd never planned to _do_ anything, but when opportunity grabbed his ass and offered...

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he _could_ say anything even if he'd known what to say, caught speechless between Brian's hands and Brian's thigh rubbing against his dick.

Brian laughed, let him go, and looped an arm around his shoulders, steering him across the club. "My place."

Shit. _Dean_. Sam balked. "No. I mean. My brother's waiting for me outside, he..."

"Your brother's playing guard dog? How cute. Does he want to join in?" The arm around Sam's shoulders tightened, which was all the warning Sam had before Brian's mouth covered his and so much for wondering.

Now he was wondering how much further he could go. Because Brian didn't seem inclined to stop, lips working over his with confidence, and it wasn't that different to kissing a girl, really, except that he was more being kissed than kissing and Brian was a lot more determined than any girl he'd ever kissed and seemed to have about seven hands which were simultaneously squeezing his ass and stroking his back and twining fingers in his hair and holding his shoulders and maybe there _was_ some weird shit going on in this club. Maybe Brian was an incubus.

That theory needed to be fully investigated. Though, God, really not with Dean. "No," Sam managed, when Brian stopped kissing him and went back to smirking. He wondered if he looked like that, too, with his lips darker and fuller and looser, and his eyes wider and just... really fucking hot. "No, he doesn't. He really doesn't."

Brian simply looked at him for a moment, a pocket of stillness in the constant movement of the dance floor, then took his hand and started moving, swiftly and with purpose. "Back room. Now. First time for everything, Sam. Ever sucked cock before?"

"What?" Dizzy, fuck, he was freaking dizzy, there must have been something in the air, maybe there were drugs or something in the AC vents. Or maybe it was just Brian. "I mean, no."

He was pulled through an open doorway at the back of the club that he'd not been able to see before, and into another world. A world of naked and half-naked men writhing to a different rhythm that the one the dancers followed. To a series of individual rhythms paced out in sighs, groans and curses under low light.

Brian tilted his head, arched an eyebrow, and pushed down on Sam's shoulders. "Congratulations. You're about to get a prime introduction."

Taking the hint, Sam went to his knees, running his hands through his hair, flicking a startled glance up at Brian. "I thought you said..."

"You're going to suck me _first_ ," Brian said, as if it should have been obvious. Maybe it should, when those long, tanned fingers flicked open the button of his fly and pulled down the zipper. "What are you waiting for?"

"Uh," Sam said again, eloquently, licked his lips, and looked. Oh, God, Brian didn't wear underwear.

One of Brian's fingers trailed down his face, pressing against his lower lip, pressing it down. "Open up..."

Sam swallowed, opened up, thought hard about what he liked best about blow jobs (which was mostly getting them), wondered briefly if he'd actually choke to death on Brian's dick then consoled himself with the thought that if he did, he wouldn't be around to hear what Dean had to say about it. 

Cautiously, he leaned forwards, wondered about closing his eyes, decided that was a sure way to end up with Brian's dick in his eye, and didn't. He must have been taking too long, because Brian's hand fisted in his hair, pulling hard enough to sting.

"Lick it first," Brian told him. "Then suck."

Okay. Right. That sounded easy enough. He could do that.

He licked. Just a small, quick, short lick, and that was okay, musky smell stronger as he got closer, but it didn't _taste_ musky. Just... warm. So, another lick, longer, and another, getting into a rhythm. Lick, taste, swallow, get his tongue wet again, start over, until Brian's hand tightened.

" _Suck_."

Well, there wasn't any point in trying to back out now. Not with the taste of Brian's cock already on his tongue and Brian's hand in his hair. Sam knelt up slightly further, knees beginning to ache, opened his mouth, dipped his head, and sucked.

Oh, God. He had a dick in his mouth. His _mouth_ was full of dick. Pressing down on his tongue, making his jaw ache already with the stretch, and Sam was pretty certain that he was drooling as well, but Brian didn't seem to mind, judging from the noises he was making, and the way his hips were moving.

And he kind of liked it. Not so much that he was sorry when Brian pulled him off, but enough that... oh, yeah. Still hard. Like, embarrassingly hard, and enough to be kind of careful about standing up again to stop from castrating himself with his jeans.

Brian looked at him, lip teasing through his teeth, and Sam tried not to think about kissing that again, and then wondered why not, fuck, he was thinking too much, but considering what he'd just done and what everyone around them _was_ doing in various combinations and variations, maybe kissing wouldn't be such a bad thing to do.

"Not bad, for a first time," Brian pronounced, and there was that smirk again, and for a moment, Sam couldn't see the whites of his eyes in the dim light. A moment when his heart flipped and his stomach tensed and he skidded back a half-step until Brian grabbed for his arm and pulled him back. 

Not back. Further, turning him and pressing him against the wall, adrenaline kicking lust stronger and harder.

"I'm not done with you yet," Brian murmured, so close to his ear that Sam could feel the heat of his breath, smell the beer Brian must have been drinking before they'd collided. "First club, first suck... first _fuck_ , Sam."

Sam pressed his cheek against the wall, tried not to think about what might have dried on there from earlier in the evening, swallowed hard, and closed his eyes as Brian's palm pressed hard against his dick, then slid up to unfasten his jeans. "God, yeah."

A hand that Sam _really_ hoped was Brian's patted his ass, then pulled down his jeans and boxers at once, leaving them bunched around his thighs. "Good boy."

He couldn't even find it in himself to protest at that, despite the flash of irritation. Not much, anyway. "Not a boy."

"Oh, yeah, you are, Sammy boy. Don't worry." Brian's mouth met his neck, hot and wet and shit, that would turn into a hickey, he was so screwed. More ways than one. "I'm gonna make you a man."

The only reason Sam didn't roll his eyes at that or protest being called 'Sammy' was that at that exact same moment, something pushed into his ass. _Into_. It wasn't designed for that, right? And that couldn't be a finger, fingers weren't that big, God, Brian really was some kind of sex demon and that was why Sam wasn't doing anything to stop him, because Brian had _done_ something to him to make him want this. He had to have done.

Because he wouldn't usually pant and whine and writhe when someone stuck their _finger_ up his _ass_. Or wait while they stuck _another_ one up there and that freaking _hurt_ , and that wasn't meant to stretch, really, was it? Except it was stretching and then... fuck.

Then Brian's dick was where his fingers had been and that hadn't felt so motherfucking huge in Sam's mouth but that had to be some kind of monster. And that really hurt, but a good hurt, and so freaking _full_ he was spitting a constant stream of curses into the wall, bracing himself on his arms, nails digging into his palms.

"So. Fucking. Tight," Brian hissed in his ear, and starting fucking him. Which _really_ burned and stretched and hurt until Brian locked one arm around his waist, wrapped the other hand around his dick, and Sam didn't even want to _think_ about the noises he started making then. Or when Brian dragged him backwards and the angle changed and holy fuck, he'd never felt anything like that. And he couldn't, he couldn't. He couldn't. He _could_ , yelling out as he came against the wall and the floor and probably his shoes, shaking and leaning on the wall for support while Brian kept fucking him, faster, harder until there was a harsh groan right in his ear and Brian's heat and weight plastered over his back.

Sam vaguely recognised the plastic snap of a condom being removed and knotted, grateful that at least Brian had thought of that, and stayed exactly where he was, cheeks burning, panting for breath, ass sore and every muscle in his body singing.

"Cover it up, kid," Brian advised, sounding amused and lazy. "Or someone's gonna take you up on that invitation."

Shit. Sam scrambled, fumbled his boxers and jeans back up and made his fingers work long enough to fasten his flies, turning to rest his back against the wall. Well, his shoulders, he wasn't going to let his ass rest against it for more than one reason, but he wasn't sure he could actually stand yet.

Brian was still watching him, grinning, and leaned in to kiss him. "Not a bad start, Sam."

"Thanks." He wasn't sure what for, but it was polite, right?

Turning, Brian sauntered away, paused, and looked back. "Hey. Give my regards to Dean."

~~~

"So, how'd it go?"

Sam shot his brother a look, and continued walking towards the side street where they'd left the Impala. "It's fine, okay? I dealt with it."

"Yeah?" Dean grinned, jogging backwards. "Looks like it dealt with you, too, Sammy. Did you get there by candlelight?"

Sam shook his head, shoved hands into his pockets, and kept walking. "There and back again."

Wait. He hadn't mentioned Dean's name to Brian. Had he?

 _Had_ he?


End file.
